It’s growing. The itch to redesign Phaysis from the ground up is growing. Not just a redesign, but a rebuilding. It’s my webspace, and I should damn-well start doing something with it. I need a blog, a gallery, a space for uploaded files, RSS feeds, some commenting code, and, among others, a method to email me from a form.
I do have some of that functionality already, but it’s spread out in disparate pieces of seperately-maintained code. Currently, I have a journal viewer and a journal writer; two seperate pieces with their own libraries and very little shared code — totally inefficient. I have a form-mailing script which is a few major versions behind the latest revision I’ve written for use elsewhere. I have a fortune-cookie generator — cheesy and oh-so 1998. I even have a space where I can upload files, but the moment I share a link to a file with a friend, the URL for the rest of the space is easily discernable and other files can be grabbed. For a gallery, I have a static html page (yes, static) that pulls in the image files that I resize, upload, include and annotate by hand. There’s no tags, no categories, no users, no comments, no feeds. On the blogosphere, I’m rockin’ my own island. And my itch to rebuild it all is growing.
I’m having to learn and live with WordPress in the order of building the knitting site for my client. I vehemently hate to admit it, but I like it. It hurts to say so, because a) it’s an already-built piece of software, b) it’s written in PHP, and c) it’s subject to the same problems and vulnerabilities every other WordPress installation may be subject to. But it’s damn easy to install, configure, and use. I’m torn.
I guess my biggest problem with using something like WordPress is that I can’t help but feel a twinge of defeat and sadness when I go to a hacker buddy’s site one day and happen to notice that instead of reinventing the wheel as is sometimes the hacker creed he has, instead, installed a set of tires and has gone on about his day. It’s true that in this day and age nobody needs to know any programming to be published online, but when I see someone take the easiest road instead of using their skill for their hobby, my own stance on my hobby is challenged.
So I have two roads, really: the easy, pre-packaged route to my apartment home, or the difficult trek uphill to my own cabin on the mountain. Whichever path I take, the itch remains until I reach my destination.